It had been an awful afternoon, and awful evening, and an awful night.
"Olga, you don't understand, humans can't live here. This place is for spiders and cockroaches and… and rats! It's tiny and damp and dark and-"
"Mo, I'm sorry, honey, but you'll just have to deal. This was the best I could get you on such a tiny budget. The neighbourhood's supposed to be very good."
"There is no neighbourhood, Olga. There's just me on stilts in the middle of a swamp. If I squint through the front door I can see another deathly shack down the road, but I'm pretty sure it's empty."
"Mo, that can't be all there is. I got you a job in the grocery store, for Pete's sake!"
"Yeah," Morrigan conceded. "I drove through the estate down the road a little yesterday. It seemed quite nice. It think it's okay once you get above the dam, but…"
"Look, honey. This is what you have now, you'll just have to make do."
Morrigan sighed into the phone and stared out of the bare window down the road. A wooden bridge connecting two sections of road over a pool of water and then a vast expanse of nothing. There weren't even any trees once you went over a certain point, just acres and acres of marshland.
"Yeah, I know," she replied, giving in. Olga was right, there was no point in fighting, really. She had what she had. "I'll… I'll call you later. I guess I should go look round the town or something. I don't have to get to work until four."
It was still grim outside as she put the phone back on the hook, fog swirling across the ground. The sky was clear and the sun was bright, though, so perhaps it wouldn't be so bad after all. Her truck was still standing in the road where she'd left it, but her clothes and books had been moved from the bags in the truck bed into her hovel, packed away neatly. The little food she'd brought with her was now residing in her fridge and she'd eaten a bland, badly-cooked meal of macaroni cheese the night before. She couldn't bring herself to force down the congealed leftovers sitting on the middle shelf, so instead she just scraped them into the bin and decided to eat when she was out. She still had a decent chunk of cash on her, she'd be okay.
Morrigan locked her door behind her, thankful to be out in the fresh air, and climbed gingerly down the two sets of stairs, climbing into her truck and steering it sadly down the road and up through the estate before the dam. It really was nice here – just a couple of streets of clean, fresh housing, all white walls and pale wood decking. She passed a gym that she decided she would visit later and a Laundromat that would come in useful if it did turn out that her washing machine didn't work after all.
A library and a bookstore stood on opposite sides of a junction. Hidden behind the bookstore was her final destination and new employer, the Grocery Grab supermarket. The doors were open and tinkly generic muzak was playing as she entered, the confirmation of her employment gripped tightly in her hand.
"Hello?" she called at the checkout counter, leaning over it in an attempt to look through the door behind the till.
"You have to ring the bell," said a friendly voice to her left, making her jump.
"Right," she said, noticing the little silver contraption on the surface of the counter for the first time and smiling at the man – blue polo shirt, white chinos, looked harmless.
"You new to the area?" he asked, and she nodded.
"Yeah. Just moved here yesterday, actually. Supposedly I've been employed here."
He smiled. "Oh, okay. Well, then, welcome to town. I'm Oliver. Oliver Greenwood, I live a couple of blocks away."
He placed his shopping basket on the counter and reached out to shake her hand.
"Morrigan Vox," she said.
"Fox?"
"No… Vox. With a V. V for very."
"Unusual."
"Tell me about it."
When she didn't elaborate he picked up his groceries again with a smile and dinged the bell on the counter. Within a few seconds a bustling woman in a stained apron has appeared with a smile and cheery "Hello!".
"Hi, Betty," said Oliver with a warm grin, "how's things?"
"Good, good," she said vaguely, tilting her head to one side inquisitively as she looked at Morrigan. "And who are you? Oliver, you've not got something going on behind Holly's back, have you?" She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and Oliver chuckled.
"Not a chance."
"I'm Morrigan Vox," Morrigan said, holding out the confirmation of employment papers.
"Oh, of course!" Betty brushed a strand of brown hair behind her ear and took the papers from Morrigan. "Just hold on a second, sweetie. Ollie, you want me to ring that up for you?"
He nodded and placed a full basket on the counter. Betty swiftly and surely ran each item past a scanner and took Oliver's money – cash, Morrigan noticed – and waved him a friendly goodbye.
"Nice to meet you, Morrigan," he said before exiting, and Morrigan nodded to him with a smile.
"You, too."
"Okay, come on then honey," Betty said, beckoning for Morrigan to follow her. She took her through the door at the back, up some stairs into a storeroom on the second floor.
"Now then, let me show you around. You ever worked in a store before?"
"Err, yeah, back home," she said, before internally correcting herself. This was her home now.
"Good, so you know how to work the register and everything?"
"Should do."
"Okie-dokie. I'll take you through the stocks and we'll get an apron on you, and if you have any problems don't be afraid to ask."
Betty's friendly demeanour started to eat through Morrigan's apprehensions and she smiled at the cheerful, middle-aged woman good-naturedly. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad, after all.